


Do you still care?

by EastWind221B



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, School Reunion, i don't really know what to put here, post-Afghanistan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 15:00:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5460638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EastWind221B/pseuds/EastWind221B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John had been together while attending university. Then John had gone to Afghanistan and they hadn't kept in touch anymore. Now Sherlock is at the students' reunion of their old school. Would John be there or would Sherlock had to finally let it go?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do you still care?

It was the 20th of December and Sherlock wasn't chasing the greatest serial-killer alive nor solving a tough case for Lestrade (yes, if we must say the truth every case was “tough” for the Yard, but certainly not for him...idiots!). No, Sherlock Holmes, the greatest consulting detective alive (yes, he was the only one on Earth but the best nevertheless, thank you very much) was at his old university. Why (all we idiots would ask)? For the fucking reunion of students born between 1970 and 1980! He wouldn't have come in a normal situation, but John was born in 1971 so there was the slight possibility of him being there. And he wasn't going to lose even half a chance.

But who was John (all we boring people would ask)? Well, first of all John was John Hamish Watson, Captain of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers, RAMC. He was born on the 7th of July 1971 and had studied medicine at Bart's. He played rugby (he had been the captain, obviously) and in his free time liked to run a blog. The most important thing, however, was that John was perfect: he was the bravest and kindest and wisest human being Sherlock had ever had the good fortune of knowing. He had helped Sherlock survive university (they shared a flat near campus), making sure he ate and slept regularly, accompanying him in his adventures, laughing of his pouts (arguing with him too, quite a lot), listening to all the possible information about bees and beekeeping. Briefly, not trying to change him as all the other people did: making him a better person, yes, but keeping his Sherlockiness intact.

But the sad truth about life (especially Sherlock's) is that all good things come to an end. John wanted to be a doctor...an ARMY doctor. So he had enlisted after graduating and had been sent to Afghanistan, to serve gloriously his country. Sherlock was so furious when John told him that first time. How could he even think that going away to be shot at was a good idea? How? He tried to make John realise his mistake, but he was firm in his decision. They argued, John went for a walk (as he always did when they had a row), Sherlock sulked on the couch of their shared flat (as he instead always did when they had a row). John returned after two hours (of agony according to Sherlock). He told him he understood his reasoning, but he had to go all the same. It was his dream and he had at least to try, in order to feel useful and be whole. If it didn't work, he would resign after the first tour and come home. Sherlock had nodded and cried (yes, it's true...the high-functioning sociopath had cried! Uhhh...). And then John had done the most amazing thing in the world: he had kissed him. As in ACTUALLY kissing him! And after two minutes (of agony according to John) Sherlock had responded. That hadn't been their only kiss: in the three years of their relationship they had kissed (a lot), cuddled (also a lot because Sherlock was a cuddler, but don't tell anyone), and yes, made love (several times, if we must be correct).

But then the ominous day had arrived and Sherlock had to let the love of his life go. They had kept in touch for a while, but after two years John started not responding anymore. And eventually Sherlock had let it dropped: he was so full of wrath and grief that he didn't even care anymore. That had been the worst period of his entire life. But he was able to overcome it. He started helping the Met and found a nice flat in 221B Baker Street (with a nice landlady who he considered like a mother). After all this time he still loved John but he had resigned himself to live a (miserable) life without him. Caring is not an advantage (his fat brother would say).

And then the letter came. “William Sherlock Scott Holmes, you are formally invited to the students' reunion of Queen Mary University of London. The event will take place on the 20th.....”. He didn't immediately tear it because of the note at the end of the card.  
“PS: I really hope I'll see you there mate. Don't be the Grinch and come!  
John has been discharged so maybe he will be there ;)  
Mike Stamford.”  
Good old Mike, always trying to be a good person. He would go and talk to John. He had at least to know why he had decided he was not worth it. Then he would let him go, he promised himself. 

So here he was, concealed in the darkest corner of the room, waiting to see a familiar spark of blond hair or two eyes blue like the sky in a warm summer night. It had been one hour and John hadn't arrived yet (if he was going to come at all). He hat talked with Mike Stamford (still the round kind guy), Sebastian Wilkes (still the obnoxious jerk) and Irene Adler (still the creepy yet intriguing dominatrix). He was ready to go (and be miserable about it for the rest of his entire life) when a hand touched his shoulder. He spun round to see who he was with hope in his heart and...

And he was greeted by the ghastly sight of Jim Moriarty.  
“All here by yourself, Sherlock? - Jim said - Where is your knight in shining armour tonight? Left you as anybody else?”.  
“Oh, hello Jim. How good to see you! - Sherlock snarled at him – I haven't seen John in ages, so I don't know if he would be here. And he never was my knight, as you call it”.  
“So it's true, he has finally left you. At last even the flawless John Watson has realised what a useless git you are. Poor Sherlock, alone. - While talking he was coming nearer and nearer Sherlock with a mischievous grin on his face - No one to understand who you truly are! Maybe I can help you.”  
He started touching him with his sweaty hands. “Stop it!” cried Sherlock.  
But he continued as if nothing were happening. “Maybe I can be the one to actually appreciate you. What do you say, Sherlock, mmh? - he was now crowding him in the corner – Don't you want to feel loved?”. Now the only thing Sherlock could feel was Jim's warm breath on his neck, not a pleasant sensation at all.  
“Jim, stop it! Please. Don't come any further. Go away!”. Sherlock's voice was actually breaking and his eyes were closed. He didn't want to see that. Maybe if he didn't record the moment with his eyes, later he would be able to actually erase this memory from his mind palace.  
“Oh, Sherlock, don't be a prude. We both know you want it. - Jim was now just two inches away from his face - YOU know you want it”.  
He felt Jim's one last breath and his surging forward.

And then...nothing. He quickly opened his eyes and his knees got weak because in front of him there was his knight in shining armour (more like a fine suit).  
“What do you think you're doing, Moriarty? How many times do I have to kick your arse before you remember not to touch him?” John was pinning Moriarty to the wall and snarling at him, furious. He was the best thing Sherlock had seen in years. He was tan, more muscular than before and his hair was lighter because of the sun. But he was the same handsome magnificent spectacular John Hamish Watson. HIS John.  
“Are you all right, Lock? He didn't do actually anything, did he?” John said to him with a concerned glare.  
Oh how he had longed to hear that voice again. It was like a balm on his heart.  
“No...no. He didn't... I'm ok. It's fine, it's all fine” he stuttered for the emotion.  
John eyed him sceptically but relieved and then he told Jim: “It's almost Christmas so I'm going to be a very good person because I want Santa Claus to grant my wishes this year. I'm going to count to three and then you're going to walk away from us - he stopped as if daring him to claim otherwise – Is that clear?”. No one uttered a single word till... “I said: is that clear?” John repeated while grabbing Moriarty more firmly.  
“Yes yes” Moriarty laboriously whispered.  
“Good. So one...two...three” and he released him.  
Moriarty flew away without even glancing at them a second time.

Sherlock stood there, agape and bewildered.  
“That went well. He is a right creepy, isn't he? - John giggled uneasily - I mean, I remember when we were younger and he would...”  
“John, stop.”  
“...come after us, well you, but I didn't think he would still...”  
“John, stop.”  
“...be the same. Who would have actually...”  
“John would you please stop with this nonsense!” Sherlock cried out.  
John stopped.

Sherlock took a step forward; his eyes were glittering with unshed tears and his voice was trembling while he said: “Why, John? Why? Was I really that unworthy for you? You didn't even have the time to break up with me. You didn't even care enough to... - Sherlock had by now begun and nothing was going to stop him from saying all he had concealed in those years – I mean, I know I can't give you a perfect family with 2.1 children, a nice house in the suburbs, a small garden and a dog. But I thought you didn't really want that”.  
John was not looking at him; he had his eyes on the floor and his fists were tightened.  
“I thought you wanted something else... I thought you wanted ME! But of course, of course I should have known from the beginning. No one wants me. Not even you, John Hamish Watson” he remarked snidely.

John was eyeing him furiously. “Have you finished?”.  
Sherlock nodded stiffly, not understanding why John was angry.  
“Good. Now have you ever thought for just one mere second that maybe it wasn't you not worth enough but me, mmh? I'm broken, Lock (the nickname only John used was making him tremble unconsciously). I was shot in the shoulder, I have a tremor in my left hand and a fucking limp (that actually explained the cane at John's feet). I can't be a surgeon anymore. I'm not whole anymore.”  
“But...” Sherlock started to reply.  
“I'm not finished yet. You've said your piece. Now it's my turn. - John stopped him with a stern glance – We both don't want the classical stereotype, it's true. But you have a stereotype of your own. You want an adventurous life, you want the thrill of the chase, the blood pumping through your veins. And I can't give you that, Lock. Not anymore. I'm damaged goods. I don't want to restrain you, so I let you go. You don't want me now, not like this. So, don't play the victim. I know it's my fault but I can't fix this. I CAN'T fix myself”.  
Sherlock stood there, in silence, looking at him with his mouth wide open, not uttering a word. John fidgeted awkwardly: “Well, that was all I have to say. I hope you'll find someone, Lock... someone actually worth of you”. And then he started to retreat away from him.

“Have it ever entered your mind that maybe all I wanted was you? - Sherlock cried out - You say the thrill of the chase, the blood pumping through my veins... that's true, I want that. But first of all I want to be just the two of us against the rest of the world. - Now he was definitely crying – I was so alone John, before meeting you and after you went away. The only moments I felt whole and accepted were the ones spent at your side. Don't you see that you make me alive? Don't you realise that I can't...BE without you.”  
Now was John's turn to look at him bewildered.  
“So if you want to leave me don't you dare tell me I don't want you, because I would always want you even if you had grown tentacles, were a vampire or wanted to hang out with bloody Anderson?”  
“Who's Anderson?” said John on the verge of tears.  
“A moron” deadpanned Sherlock.  
“So do you want to still claim you're broken or do you want to resume our relationship? And for the record your limp is psychosomatic so THAT can be fixed, while you're not to be FIXED. You're John Hamish Watson, therefore perfect. I still care. The question is: do you still care?” Sherlock finished his speech almost breathless. He had told John everything he had kept hidden for all those years. Now he had to wait for John's answer. He felt like being on a cliff. He couldn't see John's face because he was still looking at the ground.

Slowly John raised his eyes and what Sherlock saw in them gave him hope. “Would you want me even if I were a werewolf?”.  
Sherlock giggled. “Well... that's a dangerous matter John. - He tried to stay serious but failed completely – But you know I LOVE danger so... yes, I think we can find a compromise”.  
John grinned and suddenly was holding Sherlock in a tight hug whispering in his ears. “Of course I still care, you git. You are everything to me. How could you even think I saw you less than perfect. You're my honeybee, my sweetheart, my reason to breathe. I love you Sherlock. Don't ever think otherwise”. And even though Sherlock had never liked this kind of John's endearments, he couldn't be bothered at all now. He had John Watson in his arms, a John Watson who wanted him and loved him. He gave a deep sigh and then said for the first time in his entire life: “I love you too, John. Don't ever leave me again”.  
John looked at him with such a fondness his knees melted. “Never, Lock. I promise”.  
“Good. Now would you kiss me or have I to do that by myself?” Sherlock told him mischievously.  
“Come here. You haven't change a bit, have you?” remarked the formerly army doctor.  
But before Sherlock could answer with a cutting reply, John was kissing him.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic! I was listening to When We Were Young by Adele and this story came to my mind. English is not my native language so if you find any kind of mistake please let me know.  
> Comments are of course welcome and criticism is more than fine, but please try not to be too harsh.  
> If you want to talk with me about this fanfic or Sherlock or something else that's my tumblr: www.eastwind221b.tumblr.com.


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